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The Bringer of Death

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This story is No. 16 in the series "Adventures of A Line Hopper". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: When a sadistic vampire gang gets their hands on the Doctor, it's up to Buffy, the Slayers, and some of the Doctor's other friends to rescue him. But can they reach him before the world ends? Or will the vampires succeed in breaking him? Whump.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Dr. Who/Torchwood > Buffy-Centered > Pairing: The DoctorShoshiFR1838111,80124915,18216 Jan 1326 Feb 13Yes

July, 2004

Author's Note: Disclaimer. This story contains swearing, torture, implied non-con, and serious creepiness. As with all my stories, nothing sexual is described in graphic detail. But it's definitely mentioned.

(I, personally, think the creepiest part of this story isn't the sex. But that's just me.)

On the other hand, if you want DoctorWhump, this story is DoctorWhump central!

When I read through this story, the thing that strikes me is that there are a lot of funny moments, despite the fact that it's really dark. Unlike "Nothing", you get some light patches. But the dark patches are far darker than in "Nothing".

Also, I seem to have killed off the entire cast of "Angel". Except Angel and Spike. Sorry about that.

But Jack Harkness is in this story, instead!

I hold no rights over any copyrighted material. All characters and creations belong to their original owners. The fandoms that I am using are: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Doctor Who. I went completely AU in the Buffyverse after the TV series ended. Dr. Who should be completely in keeping with the canon.


July, 2004

"Well," said the Doctor, scratching his head. "LA certainly looks like it's in the right dimension."

He double-checked the dimensional scanner he'd assembled, beforehand, then shoved it into a pocket, strolling along the sidewalk. He frowned, as he stopped in front of a pile of rubble.

"Although, admittedly," he remarked to no one in particular, "this building's seen better days."

He squinted at a fallen and charred sign, lying in pieces on the ground, which appeared to be inscribed with the words, "Wolfram and Hart". The Doctor had an odd feeling, in the back of his mind, that there was something about the phrase "Wolfram and Hart" that he should know. That he had heard it mentioned in passing, quite a number of times, and knew it was important. But he didn't, for the life of him, know what it was.

Which was a wee bit odd.

"You're two months late," came a voice behind the Doctor.

The Doctor swung around, a grin already on his face, a reply already tumbling from his lips. "Encountered a bit of time turbulence right around 2003 — knocked me off course. You wouldn't happen to…?"

The Doctor stopped, as he recognized the person he was now facing. No, scratch that. The angry mob of people he was now facing. Who were, it appeared, circling him.

"Philippe de Gascon," the Doctor said to the man at the front of the mob. He tried to give his best perky smile. "Well, it's been a while! How've you been?"


The Doctor gave a small shrug. "To be expected, really," he said. "What with your being human, now. How long has it been, for you?"

Philippe's eyes grew hard and cold, his face becoming angry. "20 years."

"Blimey," said the Doctor. "20 whole years? Came the short route, myself."

"20 years," Philippe spat, "and every single one of them spent plotting to get back at the bastard who made me like this!"

"What? You spent twenty years planning your revenge?" said the Doctor. "That's more time than the Count of Monte Cristo."

"Some of us have been human even longer," said Philippe. "Forced to age and feel again — because of you. You and your… poisoned blood!"

The circle of angry humans began to close in on him, and the Doctor darted his eyes around, looking for escape options.

"I gave you all your chance," the Doctor informed them.

"You gave us nothing!" shouted Philippe. "A soul? Humanity? Mortality? Guilt? I never wanted them! None of us ever wanted them! You forced them on us all!"

"And you've spent twenty years trying to get rid of them?" the Doctor asked. He groaned. "Blimey, get over it, already! You're human, now. So go out, find a girl, find a flat, and live your life! "

The mob began to jeer, confirming the Doctor's suspicions — that 'living their lives' wasn't precisely what they had in mind.

"We've got a better idea," said Philippe, edging forwards and revealing a very nasty-looking Angrovanian Shock-Collar, probably raided from a crashed slave ship flying too close to Earth.

Although why this lot would have something like that was beyond the Doctor. He'd been under the impression that vampires — and ex-vampires — were usually fairly technophobic.

Philippe lunged for the Doctor, but he jumped backwards, scooting out of the way. And was caught by the other members of the angry mob, behind him. Right. Yes. This was going to be a wee bit difficult to get out of.

"Nowhere to run," Philippe said, an evil grin spreading across his face. "No one to save you. Not even your friend Angel will be able to come to your rescue this time."

The Doctor blinked. "Sorry, did you just call Angel my friend?"

"You gave us humanity," Philippe snapped, raising up the collar, menacingly, "and it's time you paid."

"Oh, yes, yes, absolutely!" the Doctor said, fixing his eyes on the collar. "Only, see, you might want to look up the meaning of the word 'friend', since I'm fairly certain you…" He stopped, then frowned. "That collar. It's red."

Philippe glanced at the collar, a little more nervously. Then hid his nerves under a mask of hardness. "It's a shock-collar. It doesn't matter what color it is."

The Doctor grinned. "Well, see, does a bit, because the Angrovanians stopped making the red ones. Few years back. Come to think of it, they stopped right around the time they discovered I could do… this!" And grabbing his sonic out of his pocket, he aimed it at exactly the weak-spot in the wiring, creating an ear-shattering boom of high-pitched resonance, making the no-longer-vampires nearby double up, clutching their ears.

The Doctor leapt past his captors, and ran.

"Freed five thousand Angrovanian slaves when I worked that one out!" he called back to them, over his shoulder. "Brilliant, that was!" And with a wave, added, "Have good human lives!"

The sparking flash of the collar being destroyed, and Philippe's cry of, "Get him!", and the Doctor decided he'd outstayed his welcome. He ran faster.

He didn't know what other alien tech this lot had.

He didn't know if they had already surrounded the TARDIS (although he suspected they had).

He didn't know if they'd just kill him straight out, the moment they caught him, or if they had something else in mind.

But he knew that this situation could get exceedingly bad. And very quickly.

"Contingency plan," the Doctor muttered, rooting around in his pockets. And prayed that he'd be able to get the object he wanted to the right people, before the ex-vampires caught up with him.


"Let me go."

The words always sounded exactly the same, whenever he said them. A plea for understanding. An appeal to her better nature. A demand for kindness.

Buffy couldn't look into his eyes, as she wrapped the next set of chains around his body. "I can't."

"You're better than this," the Doctor told her, as he was restrained, more and more, to the wall behind him. "You know that this is wrong."

Buffy paused, her hand reaching for a padlock nearby. "If I let you go," she whispered, securing this padlock — beside so many others — to the Doctor's chains, "you'll leave me, again."

"And if you don't," the Doctor countered, "then what's the alternative?"

Buffy reached out, to grab a hand — his hand — which was wrapped in irons. "You'll be here," she said. "Alive. With me. Forever."

The Doctor tried to pull his hand away, but there were too many restraints, too many chains and ropes and metal bands, too many things holding him in place. "This isn't life," he told her. "Don't you understand? If you do this — if I'm locked up here forever — you'll be sentencing me to a living death."

She looked up, then, meeting his eyes with her own, the hints of tears shining therein. "Then you'll know," she whispered, "how it feels to be me."

Buffy sat jolt upright in bed, suddenly awake, her breath coming fast as her hands clutched the sheets. Her mouth formed words, protests, but she had no voice to give to them.

"The same dream?" Dawn asked, folding her legs as she sat on the bed beside Buffy.

"Nightmare," Buffy corrected. She shuddered. "Same one. Ever since Sunnydale. It's like…" She paused, her brain suddenly registering her surroundings. She stared at Dawn. "Wait, how did you know that?"

Dawn shrugged.

"And… and what are you doing here?" Buffy asked, looking around at her Cleveland apartment. Then snapped her head back to Dawn, again. "No, wait. What am I doing here? I'm in London, right now."

"Yeah," Dawn said. "Sorry. You're not actually awake. You're still dreaming." She leaned forwards, and whispered, conspiratorially, "She just wanted to make sure you knew."

"Who?" Buffy asked.

A hot gust of wind swept through Buffy's apartment, blowing away the nighttime visage of a crowded room draped in darkness, ushering in the view of a desert-scape in its place. Buffy shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun, as she made out the form of Sineya — the first Slayer — emerging from the sand.

"Oh," Buffy said. "Gotcha." She tried to get up, out of bed, but the moment she stepped out into the desert, the sand burned her feet. So she decided the bed was a better option. She knelt on the covers, and called to Sineya, "What do you want me to know?"

"Death," said Sineya, dancing around Buffy.

Buffy frowned. "Okay. Slayer. Vampires. Get a lot of that. What about death?"

"Well, everyone will die," Dawn explained. She reached out to pat her sister's hand. "Everyone."

"The world will change," Sineya sang, in her whispered, low voice. "An age will end. A choice will be made, and history will transform. Death is coming. Death for all."

Buffy felt a shiver run down her spine, but she'd been through way too many apocalypses to let this really get through to her. "But I can stop it."

"You can, but you will not," Sineya replied. "Time has already been set. The inevitable has only been delayed. Death is coming, and you are the cause. Death is coming, and you will embrace it."

Buffy remembered what the unnamed, omniscient entity in the leather jacket had told her, just after she'd defeated the First. That the events that had happened in Elizabeth's 2003 will happen in her own timeline, and have only been delayed. Not prevented.

Elizabeth caused 38,000 people to die. And Buffy, in this timeline…

Tendrils of real fear began to slither through Buffy's veins.

"Why are you afraid?" Dawn asked, looking a little confused by Buffy's unease. "You haven't even heard the scary part, yet."

Buffy snapped her head around. "What do you mean?"

Dawn leaned in closer, so close that their foreheads were almost touching. "Your nightmares," she whispered, her eyes almost glowing with the power of the Slayer, "will come true."

Buffy woke up.


"So that's basically the school," Willow said, finishing up her tour back in the front lobby. She gestured at the Scythe, still hanging in its place of honor, for everyone to see, in the front entrance of the new Slayer Institution. "We're sort of a full-medical staffed, full-psychiatric staffed, all-training-included investigatory team and fighting force to get rid of the forces of darkness. And go up against evil monsters. And… a lot of apocalypse preventing. Did I mention that?"

Carla, the newbie that Willow had been showing around, seemed a little bewildered. "And this is where all of us… magical Slayer people… wind up?"

"That's the plan," Willow agreed. Then, realizing she'd said the wrong thing, "I mean, that's not just the plan, that's what's happening right now! But… it's kind of a new thing, so… yeah! Slayer Institute. World Savers Extraordinaire."

Carla nodded, slowly. Glancing around at the Institute. "Why isn't anyone doing anything?"

Willow hesitated. "Well… Buffy's in Europe, right now," she admitted. "But when she gets back, you'll see. We're a really well put together team."

And decided it was better not to mention that she, Xander, Dawn, and a handful of others always took over the world-saving operation when Buffy wasn't around. Because there was no way they could get the rest of the girls to actually do anything, when Buffy wasn't here.

"And this… Buffy," said Carla, "has never been away, before, or something?"

"Oh, no," said Faith, walking by. "She's always away." She made little air quotations. "'Locating the Watchers Council's lost funds.'"

Carla looked back over at Willow.

"It's a hard job," Willow insisted.

"What's the 'Watchers Council'?" Carla asked. "And why do they have funds that need locating?"

"Well, you see," said Xander, approaching, "way, way back, in the legendary and ancient days of 2002 AD, there was an organization in England called the Watchers Council. That was very rich. But they got blown up. And, apparently, we've got a right to their money — provided we can show up in England and do some serious legal stuff." He gave a grin. "And you'd think that the Watchers Council's money would all be in banks and investment offices and places like that. But, it turns out, you'd be wrong. Buffy's been searching for that money… well, in Devil's End…"

"Chiswick," put in Faith.

"Right outside of UNIT's old headquarters from the 70's," Willow added.

"Oh, yeah," Xander agreed. "A ton of Watchers Council Funds all over there!"

"Don't forget the Powell Estates!" Faith threw in.

"But, basically," said Xander, "as far as we can tell, most of the Watchers Council's funds are located in a magical, vanishing and reappearing blue Police Box. As soon as Buffy finds that — she's hit the jackpot!"

Carla stared at them all, as if they were insane. "Huh?"

"Cut it out, guys," came Dawn's voice, as she emerged from her office. She turned to Carla. "Buffy's just looking for her friend. That's all." She turned around, and left.

"Who was that?" Carla asked the others.

"Buffy's sister," said Willow, as Faith said, "The other reason Buffy's spending so much time in London."

Carla seemed confused.

"Buffy's heart's in the right place," Xander told Faith. "She loves her sister. A lot. What's happening in England has nothing whatsoever to do with Dawn."

"Oh, yeah," Kennedy cut in, entering the room. "It's a complete coincidence that Rose just so happens to also be a 19-year-old troublemaker who always runs away and gets herself into serious danger at all the wrong moments."

"And is being stalked by an all-powerful, nameless evil entity," added Willow. "That wants to kill her at a particular temporal point in the future."

"Complete coincidence," Faith agreed.

Carla looked between the various different people that had chimed in during this episode. And decided that, whatever the deal was with Buffy, it was way too complicated for her to ever understand.
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